Riven: The Road to Redemption
by Liched101
Summary: After the events in Coeur valley, Ionia, Riven's vision of Noxus changed. Betrayed by the one thing she truly loved, she wandered in exile for years. Her hands stained with blood of those she had slaughtered, she sought out the League of Legends for redemption. When a ghost of her past is reborn, Riven must embark on a journey across all of Valoran to reforge what was broken.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Hello readers! Thank you for decided to read my story. If you were referred here by fanfic author vOceanic, I bid you welcome, and thank you! … Again! **

**For those that haven't read anything by vOceanic, I recommend you check them out. Although knowledge of their stories are certainly not required, there are certain character aspects and concepts that will be easier to understand with the foreknowledge gained from reading vOceanic's stories. **

**If you like the story, then PLEASE feel free to follow/favorite or leave a review. All are appreciated! And now I give you chapter 1 of The Road to Redemption!**

* * *

Chapter 1 – The Institute

Riven was a great many things; Noxian, commander, murderer, deserter…

_Exile_

… but never before had she called herself an assassin.

She was on a mission, top priority, top secret: "Take care of" the child of the leaders of a Noxian Rebellion. She had observed the target's behavior for the past two weeks. She began her day in the Noxian Quarters, naturally. At midday, she would eat lunch at the cafeteria in the Institute, and then pick flowers in the Main Courtyard, where Riven had decided to set up her hiding spot.

"Set up" was an exaggeration, of course, for hiding in a bush. Due to the target's adolescence, Riven decided that she would never suspect her assailant to be in such a blatantly obvious hiding spot.

The sun was at its full height in the sky. She knew the target would be in the courtyard soon, now she only had to wait. She wouldn't wait for long however, as five minutes passed and the little red haired girl skipped happily into the courtyard, completely unaware of the evil that waited for her.

Riven was ready. She could hear her own beating heart as the target skipped closer. The only thought Riven paused for was perhaps the most perturbing detail of it all. She felt no guilt, no remorse, and certainly no regret for what she was about to do. Well, that would be a lie, as she did feel a pang of regret… regret that her mission would be coming to an end so soon, without having the time she wanted to fully enjoy it.

Closer and closer she hopped, skipped, and jumped, stopping here and there to smell the flowers or swat playfully at a butterfly. She was practically on top of her at that moment.

_Now! _

She sprang from her brush, Annie never stood a chance. She spun around in shear terror, in shock and disbelief that she had been found.

"Boo!" Riven yelled.

The Dark Child squealed with glee as her assailant pinned her to the ground. Shrieks of laugher could be heard throughout the entire Institute as the successful assassin tickled her target nearly to death.

"Riven!" she cried through her hysteric laughter. The Exile chuckled as she lifted Annie upon her shoulders. "Too easy," she guffawed, proud of her victory.

"Meanie, I didn't see you!" She was still giggling. She hummed playfully as she went to work terrorizing her short white hair.

"Hey!" She laughed. Annie stuck her tongue out and blew raspberries as riven lowered her to her feet. She looked up to the Noxian woman expectantly, eyes sparkling, "Let's play again!" she giggled.

Riven laughed once more, and pat her on the head, "Sorry Annie, but I've got some errands to run before work."

Annie looked hurt, but quickly brightened up. "It's okay, I can play with Tibbers!" she called as she skipped toward the Southern Hall, and most likely toward the Yordle Quarters.

"Oh gods, be careful!"

"Don't worry, Tibbers Won't hurt me!"

"It's not you I'm worried about," she muttered. Annie not seeming to hear her (or care, probably) continued on her way. Riven was sure the Ziggs would enjoy helping her incinerate things, or Rumble would perhaps have a new gadget she could help him tinker with. She shook her head, chuckling at the thought of the Yordle Quarters bursting into flame. Of course, Riven would help extinguish the flames (she certainly had before…), but it was still humorous nonetheless. The Exile turned east, heading toward the Institute's main gate.

* * *

The city it led to had no official name, but there where shops, delis, little restaurants, apartment complexes, and even a cathedral. _All the things a 'normal' city would have _she pondered. She made her way through the large bazaar just outside the gate, and immediately began searching for a side street. She didn't do crowds, or social events/gatherings at all, really.

It was well known throughout the Institute that Riven wasn't exactly a social butterfly, quite the opposite actually. She wasn't exactly shy, but she certainly didn't jump at new opportunities to meet new people, which made her rather awkward in social situations. Wandering 7 years through Runeterra with no home did that to a person, she thought. This did not mean she was impolite; she just tended to stick to herself and her own affairs.

As she entered the crowd her palms immediately became sweaty, the first symptom of her social anxiety. She spied an alley and promptly ducked into it, sighing heavily.

_Gods, I hate coming here_

She needed a moment to recuperate. She was nearly prepared to brave the crowd again, when a voice made her jump.

"Need a hand?" The voice was calm and cool, but more importantly, it was _right_ behind her.

A slight gasp, and she turned to see who the familiar voice belonged to. He was almost a full head taller than her, which wasn't saying much as Riven was small for her age. All she saw of his face was a dark goatee… was that all? She noticed a hood covering his eyes. She wondered how he could see her in this dark alley with half his face covered, but she quickly realized by the man's friendly smile and comforting presence the he couldn't actually see _at all._

"Lee Sin," she breathed, still startled by his sudden appearance.

He chuckled brightly at her reaction, "Forgive me for startling you, Exile. I noticed you enter the marketplace and I heard your heart rate spike. I thought you might need a friendly face."

"I - uh – suppose… that's… how exactly did you notice me?" she asked, at a complete loss for words. Wasn't this man supposed to be blind?

The welcoming smile never left his face. "Our senses become stronger at the loss of another," he stated matter-of-factly, pausing to take a breath. "Also, I was once a summoner in training."

Riven had forgotten the Blind Monk's past momentarily. Perhaps he was using magic to aid his senses? She shook her head, not fully understanding. The concept of magic and how it was used had always escaped her. She preferred her sword over any spell, and the strength of her will over any magic.

"I see," she stated plainly.

"I don't," he said through the most wolfish of grins.

She actually laughed at this. She had not known the Blind Monk for his sense of humor, but for his strength and unwavering resolve. Smiling, clearly accomplished with his joke, he asked "So what brings you to the markets, Exile?"

"Oh, just groceries. I'm out of noodles, so – " she said smiling lightly, still amused by his joke.

"Mind if I join you, then?" he asked politely. "I'm headed there myself. I need carrots for my carrot stew tonight."

Riven was too overly fond of many champions of the league. As a matter of fact, she was mostly indifferent toward the majority of them, with the exception of a few, Lee Sin being one of them. He wasn't particularly charming to her, he was a monk after all. He was, however, very warm and friendly, always eager to share his wisdom with those who would hear it. Riven looked back at the crows behind her and sighed.

"I would greatly appreciate it, actually" she admitted, half-breathed.

Lee nodded, understanding her predicament. "Thank you. If you would like, there is a much quieter way to the grocer's, through these alleys." He turned sideways, gesturing toward the alley behind him, and also, away from the crows, Riven noted.

The Exile's shoulders must have dropped a good few meters, overcome with relief. "By all means," she said, motioning toward the alleys, "_please_ lead on."

Smiling, he nodded. Hands clasped behind him, he led on, taking turns at every junction. Riven made sure to remember every turn, memorizing details about the new path. If it was this quiet and empty all the time, she would take this path from now on… I was immeasurably better than her usual crowded route.

Lee would break the silence, "How long have you had your social anxiety?"

Riven stopped, her face flushed. Her gaze fell straight to her feet as they always did when she was embarrassed. She did not like to talk about it, people tended not to understand. "I - …" she stuttered.

He turned back to look at her, and eyebrow raised. When he realized his question brought her discomfort, he apologized.

"No, it's fine, really," she replied. "it's just, I – " she paused again, taking a deep breath. The Monk waited politely for her to gather her thought. "Ever since I – well, always really. I don't really like to talk about it."

"Then we need not discuss it anymore, Riven." He smiled, "We are here, anyway." He nodded towards the exit of the alleys, which apparently came out directly across from the food market.

_Wow. That didn't take long at all. And my palms are almost completely dry._

He looked at her eagerly, awaiting a response.

"Oh, uh," she stuttered, "thank you, Monk, for all of your help." She mustered up the most sincere smile that she could. She meant it, too.

A faint look of disappointment splashed his face, much to Riven's confusion, before his smile would resurface. "Please, 'Lee' is fine."

"Oh, I – ", she paused, blinking once or twice. Names weren't really her thing. It mostly felt a bit too personal for her, so she tended to call people by their titles, or rank. This was particularly easy since most of the people she ever had to deal with were either summoners or champions. He had, however, shown her great gentlemanly kindness today. Besides, it was only on syllable.

"Thanks, Lee."

He nodded politely. "Would you like company on your way back, or can you remember your way?"

"No, thank you, really. I think I'll head back alone," she said plainly. She appreciated Lee's company, but she was beginning to sweat again now that she was around a crowd again.

Once more, he nodded in complete understanding. "Until next time, then," he said. He waved as he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

She sighed, feeling a mixture of gratitude and relief. She did sometimes wish she was more comfortable around people, but she decided to push the thought away. She was content with her personality for now, at least.

Directly across from the opening of the alley she stood in was the food market. With a deep breath, she made to head to the store.

* * *

The Gates of the Institute finally came into Riven's view. They were gargantuan, and made of a mysterious metal. Overcome with relief, she made toward them. The giant doors themselves did not open for just any occasion, only for high ranking officials, envoys, parades (yes, there were parades in the unnamed city), and newly accepted champions. All along the bottom of the gate were doors and miniature gates of various sizes, accommodating for some of the larger members of the League, and also supply shipments.

Riven approached the door on the far left side of the left half of the gate. There was no noticeable difference between this entrance and the many others. Its guardsman was an elderly man, with very little hair remaining and a long gray beard. Corran was his name, and he liked to tell stories.

It was because of this fact that many people seeking to enter the Institute tended to use the other entrances, lest they be subject to the ramblings of an old and lonely Demacian man. Contrary to what her personality may suggest, Riven quite enjoyed her talks with Corran, and truly admired him for his wisdom, despite their rival homelands. They never spoke of Noxus or Demacia though, as they both shared a similar past; a story, as Corran would put it. Both once proud members of their respective military, both blinded by the ideals drilled into them, both guilty of unsavory acts in the name of their nation, and finally both exiled by their own homelands.

But there was no need to discuss their stories today. As the gray-bearded man came into view of the Exile, she noticed a warm smile already forming across his face. He was missing a few teeth, and his eyes were a bit glazed over – had he been napping just now? – but his happiness was sincere, and Riven couldn't help but smile back.

"Why, if it isn't the great and terrible Riven of Noxus!" he called with a comical tone, adding an upward inflection to his joke.

"And who else to vanquish me but the Great Axe of Demacia!" she cried, imitating the tone of a distressing damsel.

He scoffed, licking his lips before he continued. "The best our nations have to offer! Our fight would decide the entire outcome of the war," he mocked. His hearty laughter sounded more like a hacking cough than a laugh, but it was still friendly.

Riven joined him in his fit of laughter as he pulled the needlessly large key-ring from his pocket, 17 keys exactly ornamented it. Riven had decided after her third or fourth visit to him that the only reason for them was to prolong his conversations, as he tried every key before finally coming to the right one last, but only after his story was finished. She watched as he inserted the first key into the lock, cursing at its failure. This act always made her giggle, especially the first attempt. After the third key had failed to open the door, he began his story, "I saw a man today, hair as big as a double sided axe! And believe me when I say that I'm man that knows his axes."

Whether or not Corran's stories held any truth to them, Riven did not know. Most of the time she concluded there was a fifty-fifty chance that it was all hogwash. She humored him, much like she always did. "Oh, yeah? When did he come through?" she asked.

He paused to curse at the fourth key's unsuccess, looking at the woman to answer her after selecting the fifth key, "Oh, it was early this morning, I think. You were likely still sleepin'."

"Most people prefer not to use your door," she replied, "Did he talk to you?"

"Heh, it's 'cause they can't handle my devilishly good looks," he guffawed, feeling accomplished with his whit. He paused again, curing at the lock. Looking back at Riven, he said "Wasn't much of a talker, him. All he said was that he was from Ionia, and was goin' to his judger or somethin' along those lines."

Riven blinked a few times. _Judger? Could he have meant judgement? _She mused. It WAS about time for the League to be looking for a new champion. It seemed to be a bimonthly occurrence for new champions to join the League of Legends. She tended to not keep up with it.

"A new Champion, huh?" she asked.

"Looked like it," he nodded, still fiddling with his keys. He looked to be on the ninth key now. "Real quiet fellow, cool breezy voice. Carried a long sword, and I don't mean a typical longsword. A really really long sword," he spread his arms apart, nearly dropping his key-ring, and cursed again.

_An Ionian with a really long sword, why does that sound familiar? _She thought to herself.

_A 'breezy' voice…_

She could hear Corran speaking to her, but his words bounced off of her ears. She didn't mean to be disrespectful, but she was genuinely taken aback by the details of this new _champion_. There was a memory there, on the forefront of her mind, but it was fog. She knew that -

_*CLICK*_

"But don't let me talk yer head off all day, now. Go on, I got more people what needs getting in," he stated matter-of-factly. Riven shook her head, putting aside her thoughts for now. She looked behind her, noticing that the line she expected to see, well, wasn't really a line at all. Because lines were made up of people, and there surely were no people behind her. "I see that," she stated plainly, "well, I'll let you get to them, then!"

She nodded to him as she passed through the gate. "Nice talking to you, oh great and powerful Axe of Demacia," she said laughing. He waved goodbye to her, "Good eve to ye!" He promptly closed the gate-door, and Riven could hear him begin whistling a tune, most likely a Demacian footsoldier's marching song.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Hello readers! Thank you again for supporting me by choosing to read my story! If you enjoy your time here, please feel free to follow/favorite, I plan on regularly updating this story. If you REALLY like it, reviews are all greatly appreciated **

**In this chapter there is a scene that has a particular song playing (I wrote the scene while listening to this song), and I feel like it would be better enjoyed if you, the reader, had the song playing as background noise while you read. When you see this " /***/ " then you may choose to have it playing, or you can read it normally. T****his is my method to try to add more dimension to the story. Feel free to write a review/PM me saying if you enjoyed the scene more or less listening to it. Like I said, you don't have to listen if you don't want!**

**Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys**

**Okay, I'll stop rambling. Here's Ch.2 of Road to Redemption. Thanks!**

Ch. 2 – The Battle Bunny

Riven made her way to the primary junction of The Institute, the Central Fountain. Adorned by sculptures of summoners in their traditional long hooded robes, each spouted a different color of water. As the rainbow of fluids all cascaded down and met in fountain beneath, their color faded and once again became clear. The floor of the fountain was littered with coins of all sizes, shapes, colors, and nationalities. Summoners and Champions alike often came here to make wishes upon the fountain, hoping for good luck.

She assumed that most of the wishes were for love interests, or success in League matches. She saw Lux and Ezreal sitting on the ledge of the fount, talking and smiling with one another. Lux leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, turning his face cherry red. Riven laughed softly to herself, noting how sweet and innocent their romance was. Moving along, she hung a right toward the Ivory Tower, where Apolitical champions tended to stay. She side-stepped to avoid running into Ahri, but the Nine Tailed Fox of Ionia didn't even notice the maneuver as she was too busy fawning over a male summoner with deep sea-blue eyes. She batted her lashes at him just before he gave her a playful flick on the nose, sending her into giggles.

_Jeez, is it Spring already? _She thought absently to herself.

She made her way further down the hallway toward the entrance to the Ivory Quarters. It wasn't particularly extravagant, a simple wooden double door. Not grand like the Noxian's Great Iron Gate, or the Demacian's Grand Archway, just a basic door.

She pulled the latch and opened the door. The bottom floor wasn't decorated – like, at all. Save for one random, lonely ficus next to the entrance. She never understood why it was there, what purpose it served. She figured when the Institute was built that no one wanted to offend the apolitical Champions/Summoners with decorations akin to the other faction's, but they also didn't want to make them feel left out. Thus, the lonely ficus was deemed the best alternative.

Riven began her climb. The tower had four floors with five rooms per floor, and a single circular staircase winding all the way to the top. She got off the stairs on the third floor, and made her way around the circular corridor. Her room was on the direct opposite side of where the stairs let out. She approached her door, taking the linen glove off of her right hand. Riven didn't know much about the other Quarters of the Institute, just what she had overheard from other Champion's conversations (she had heard from at least half a dozen Champions and three Summoners about Cassiopeia's snoring). The entrances to private quarters in the Ivory Tower had no handles or doorknobs. There was a single soapstone dead center in every door, each programmed to identify a specific few beings. Similar to fingerprint scanners in Piltover and Zaun, the door soapstones were magically attuned to identify the very essence of an individual, and remember it.

The Exile reached out her un-gloved hand to touch the stone when she heard sound coming from her apartment. It sounded like static with heavy, fast paced thumping. Already she had a pretty good idea of what was happening in her apartment, but she sighed in disbelief. Needing to see it for herself, she touched the soapstone, and the door flew open. Riven was nearly blown off her feet by the gust that met her, but it wasn't wind.

Not yet…

It was sound, Pentakill specifically. Her speakers were on full blast jamming Deathfire Grasp for her "guest" sitting on the couch.

"Quinn's home," she muttered, her face remaining emotionless.

Quinn, the Wings of Demacia, looked up from her book BOOK? – she was reading with the music turned that high? "Riven!" she squealed, positively delighted to see her girlfriend after so long. She sprang from the couch, nearly throwing her book, and ran to embrace Riven. Well, it was more of a tackle, really. The exile had to dig surprisingly deep to find the strength to not fall – she was still holding her groceries. "I've missed you SO MUCH!" Quinn yelled, barely able to hear her own voice.

While Riven did certainly like hugging Quinn, only Quinn as a matter of fact, this was a little too much. Nearly all the air had escaped Riven's lungs before she gagged "Music… groceries… oxygen!" Quinn, noticing that Riven's face was as purple as her own hair, released her much to her gratitude. She pulled the speaker remote from her back pocket and with a flick of the wrist all was quiet again. The exile, out of breath now, flashed Quinn a quick smile, "Let me set these down, okay?" Quinn nodded, closing the door behind them.

In the kitchen, Riven set the groceries on the island and let out a heavy sigh. Looking back at Quinn, she smiled and opened her arms, ready for her embrace this time. As a typical rule of thumb, the exile preferred to speak to very few people, and hug _NOBODY. _The woman before her was an exception. She had broken through her walls and seen the unmasked Riven that was now offering her affection with open arms – literally. Quinn hugged her hard, and this time Riven hugged bag, nuzzling her face into the scout's hair which she was wearing down for now. "Thank you for coming back to me safely."

Quinn's arms were wrapped around her waist, and she pulled her closer to her. She could feel the exile's quickened heartbeat begin to slow down as she relaxed into her. "I always do, don't I?" she whispered into her ear. She felt shivers run down from Riven's neck, ending in her lower back. Riven pulled back a bit, and pressed her forehead to Quinn's, dark brown-red eyes meeting hazel. A tear was forming in the eye of the exile.

"I missed you," they both said simultaneously.

Sometimes, they were so in sync with their thoughts and words that it truly frightened Riven. _How could two persons be so close? _She often wondered. That didn't matter now, though. All that was important in this world to Riven was the woman in her arms, and so for Quinn too. No more words needed to be spoken. Riven closed her eyes, a single tear rolled down her soft cheek. She pushed into Quinn, who met her happily. Moments like these were what mattered most to the broken Noxian woman. There were no words, no thoughts, no worries, just the two of them and their love. They stayed there for a while, kissing and holding one another, enjoying the other's warmth.

Quinn's breaths became harder as she pressed her breasts to Riven's. The exile released a quiet moan at the force, but did not stop kissing her. The scout inserted her tongue into her girlfriend's mouth, teasing it lightly. She teased back, pausing at moments to lick Quinn's lips. Riven ran her fingers through her short purple hair, shorter than hers, as a matter of fact. Reminded by this, Quinn pulled out her bobby pins, freeing Riven's shoulder length white hair. She knew that the scout liked her hair down; she cursed herself for not letting it down earlier. Neither woman wanted this moment to end. Both were quite content with remaining here in this pose for the rest of the evening. Well, maybe they could move to the bed... It would have to wait, however, as the alarm clock went off in the living room.

It was Riven's work alarm. Her shift was beginning in a little over an hour. She sighed as she walked over to turn off the alarm, turning back to Quinn who had sat down at the island, smiling back to her. "Work?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. She nodded, affirming her suspicion. "Well," she stood, "you look like you haven't eaten all day. Let's get some food before your shift, yeah?"

It was true, she had yet to eat and it was six o' clock at night. She hadn't planned it, in truth. She wasn't much of a breakfast eater, preferring actual meals to sausage and eggs. She had planned on picking something up while she was out, but got caught up in her game with Annie, and Gods be damned if she was eating alone in the city. Nope. She could feel her stomach twisting and growling, hell, Quinn heard it from across the apartment. She chuckled as she went to open the bags. "Let's see what you got for me this time," she hummed happily as she rummaged through the groceries. "Hmmm. Noodles, chicken, a few spices," she set each ingredient down as she read the labels aloud. "Ah, Teriyaki sauce! Good news, you don't have to starve tonight!" she called.

Riven watched her girlfriend go to work with much curiosity in her eyes. Despite her talent at hunting, fishing, and basic field survival, Riven was a lousy cook. Raised in the streets of Noxus, there was never time to prepare anything, you simply ate whatever you found that was edible. In the Noxian military there were always cooks and premade meals for her. And when there weren't, she took from the boys that made fun of her for her size, after a good pummeling, that is. In her years of wandering Ionia, she lived mostly off the land. In the summer she would catch trout, and rabbits in the spring. She hunted deer in the fall and ate whatever she could find in the winter.

Never had she needed to learn her way around a kitchen. It was all foreign to her. She couldn't tell you the difference between a wok and a saucepan, both of which Quinn was using now to prepare their meal. She watched the ranger do her work, bemused by every stir, mix, and ingredient added. Soon, Quinn had prepared a full meal for two of miso noodles and teriyaki chicken.

"Voila! Dinner is served!" Quinn mocked in her best high Demacian accent, before she gave a curt bow. Riven was not one to giggle, but that Demacian woman knew just how to bring the girl out of her. She walked back to the kitchen, to her girlfriend who had already made a plate for her. Kissing her cheek, she said, "Thanks, Quinn." She blushed into her kiss and made a plate for herself. They sat next to each other on their kitchen island and began to enjoy their meal. The noodles tasted beefy, which was alright to Riven considering meat was her favorite level of the food pyramid. The saltiness of the miso left her longing for something sweet though, so she tried the chicken. The teriyaki sauce was exactly the level of sweetness her palette craved. Half way through her meal, she broke the silence, "How was your trip? Anything interesting happen?"

Quinn slurped a particularly long noodle, savoring the saltiness before she swallowed. She shook her head, "Oh, Riven, it was dreadful! The Freljordian countryside was beautiful as always, but the assignment itself was a complete bust," she pouted. "I had to sit and watch a tribe of hill trolls burp, fart, and scratch their junk for six hours in the cold because some bloody commander was _convinced_ they were plotting against the capital. It. Was. Awful." She could not have emphasized the last words more, she was clearly peeved about the assignment.

Through muffled laughter the exile prodded, "And how is that any different from the Demacian countryside?" Quinn, only _slightly_ amused by her joke, playfully slapped her arm. She often liked to poke at her nationality, but Riven in truth had no ill will toward Demacia, although she disagreed with their ideals. Quinn too largely disagreed with many Demacian ideals, the archangels in particular. The couple believed in the gods of Runeterra, but they had no deity that they worshipped, preferring to instead enjoy the moment as equals.

They both did just that, laughed softly and enjoyed the moment. "I'm glad you're home, Quinn."

"Me too, babe," Quinn smiled.

Riven turned her attention back to her meal, attempting to slurp her noodles as Quinn just did. A little too forcefully, though, and a stray noodle flicked her on her nose before submitting to her mouth. Feeling betrayed, she let out a frustrated sigh. Quinn, however, found the act adorable. She leaned closer to Riven and slowly and tenderly licked the droplets of broth from her nose, much to her surprise. Her eyes shut, heart fluttered, and shivers once again travelled through her core. Another gasp escaped her before she spoke. "Must you get me worked up before work?"

The ranger smiled, nodding. "It makes the performance that much more sensual, if you ask me," she replied. Gods, she loved when Quinn gave her nose attention. It was her secret sweet spot, and she was awfully embarrassed by it. Quinn didn't care, though. All she cared about was how crazy it drove her lover. She hazarded a glance at the clock, noticing the time, "Eat up, Riv, you need to leave in twenty minutes." Riven glanced at the clock and groaned, not wanting her time with Quinn to end. She took a few more bites and decided that she was full. After living off glorified scraps for the majority of her life, nothing filled her up quite like a home cooked meal. She stood and turned to move to the bedroom, turning to smile at Quinn as she walked. She noticed the wandering eyes of the Demacian scout, but she didn't mind in the slightest.

She opened her dresser and retrieved her work uniform, and quickly tucked it into her shoulder bag which rested at the foot of her bed. She walked to work in her uniform once… never again she decided. She looked back at the mirror of her wardrobe, debating whether or not she wanted to put her makeup on now or once she got to work. She opted for the latter when she heard Quinn clear her voice behind her. With a turn, she saw her lying on the bed, an expectant smile spread across her face.

"I want to hold you until you have to leave," she stated rather plainly. She obliged with content and settled on the bed next to her, she pressed her back to Quinn's chest. Riven was typically the "spoonee" as Quinn liked to put it, and she was fine with that. Somebody had to take the female role in their relationship. Besides, the best sleep Riven ever got was in the arms of her lover. To this day, it was the only sleeping arrangement she had experienced which yielded no nightmares, and she had many reoccurring nightmares.

They were far off now, though. Quinn's embrace was well enough to combat the exile's memories. For now, all was peaceful. Riven gently caressed her forearm with her fingertips. It was a tickling sensation that she knew she loved, evident by the purring Riven felt at the back of her neck. She was teasing her, she knew this, but arousal wasn't particularly her goal. Not now, at least. In truth, she didn't have any goal in sight right now. She just knew what made her girlfriend happy and hoped to do just that. Her efforts were rewarded, as Quinn massaged her midriff.

Before too long, Quinn's breathing became a slow melodical rhythm, and she could tell she was asleep. Riven stood, careful not to wake the sleepyhead. Gently covering her, she kissed her lightly on the cheek, grabbed her bag and her makeup and departed for work.

* * *

She approached the establishment – if it could even be called that. In bright neon lights of gold and purple the front sign read, or shouted, rather, "Herb's Bunnies". She sighed, knowing what night it was, Friday. All manner of men and woman came to the strip club on Friday night, their busiest night.

She made her way to the back door, the employee door. There stood a hulk of a man, six feet nine inches tall and easily two hundred and eighty pounds of raw muscle. Ted the bouncer looked toward the exile and smiled, "Sup."

"Hi Teddy," she smiled. Despite his imposing figure, he really was a sweetie. Get on his bad side though, and Riven knew what would happen. She had seen it, as a matter of fact. Some poor fool tried to mug Riven one night as she rounded the corner to the employee door. Before she could even hit him with a Ki Burst, Ted had picked him up by the neck, slammed him against the wall, and then threw him twenty feet upward onto a fire escape; he tore the metal latter off the escape to ensure he wouldn't go anywhere. Yep, that was Ted.

In the present, Riven stepped through the employee door and hung a quick right. There were already a few girls in the mirror room, some were putting their faces on while others were gossiping, on break. Most of the girls there Riven had decided were unsavory at best, offering "more for extra" in their private showings. She had made a reputation for herself, though. After working for Herby for nearly six months now, she was both the most loved and feared Bunny in the club. Regular customers had learned by now that any finger that touched the exile was liable to be broken, or removed. It would have been a big deal to the club owner were it not for the quantity of money Riven made during her performances. Herb, the owner, would just as soon turn a blind eye to her acts of self defense than risk losing profit.

She gently applied her makeup, making sure not to miss a single detail. She didn't wear it usually, too much maintenance, and it smeared when she trained. Makeup meant better tips, though, so she had learned to swallow her pride and deal with it. She was applying her eye shadow when one of the girls came in crying. She sat down at her mirror, just next to Riven's, and was immediately surrounded by fellow Bunnies. What the majority of Bunnies lacked in decency, they more than made up for with their familial bond they had developed with one another. It was actually an admirable trait Riven thought; they behaved much like Fury Company had – minus the Bunny ears, of course.

They began shushing and patting her, all asking why their sister was upset. She looked at the mirror to address all of them. "I'm pregnant," the Ionian Bunny moaned, makeup running down her cheeks. Riven stopped to raise an eyebrow, how was that so awful? About half of the Bunnies agreed, as they let out squeals and laughs of joy, proud of the mother-to-be. The other half understood what it meant and embraced her even more, one even shed a tear. While pregnant women could dance, the clientele at large preferred fit and skinny women, not women with a pregnant belly. She would lose her job in the coming months, and there was little she could do to hide it. Riven, deciding to not get involved finished putting on her makeup. She was first up tonight, and would be called soon.

Right on schedule, a short lump of a man waddled around the corner into the mirror room. He sported a black, white-striped fedora with a long sleeve button up polo. His pants were black, dress pants and were held up by two elastic overall straps. His black shoes were shined to perfection, and he puffed at a cigar which read "Romeo y Julietta" along the side. "Riv-babe, you're up girl! Get that tush in a Bunny suit and let's get out there, yeah?" he coughed. His voice was high pitched and raspy, but despite his appearance he actually was hilarious, not at all what you would suspect of a glorified pimp. However, when it came to his business, if you weren't talking money then he wanted none of it. He knew his limits as far as jokes he was "allowed" to make with Riven, and he walked that very thin line like a tightrope.

She hurried to the changing room, where she stripped quickly and dispassionately. Beginning with the black stockings, she started putting on her outfit. The corset was made to be stepped into and tied from behind. She hated asking for help with her outfit, so she had mastered lacing her own top. The heels were next, they were pink, uncomfortable, and dreadful; _No warrior should have to wear an outfit so shameful_ she frequently thought. The final pieces were the tail, the glove, and of course, the ears. The tail was basically just a belt with a glorified cotton ball glued to the back. She pulled the elastic waistband up around her hips. She slipped the comically sized glove onto her right hand, wiggling her fingers to make sure it wouldn't loosen mid performance. As she slipped the ears on over her head, she hopped sarcastically in front of the mirror. Much to her misfortune, she was ready.

* * *

Laughing, swearing, and cheering, these are the three things that could be heard at any given moment on Battle Bunny Friday. Drinks and food were being brought out by Bunny waitresses, cocktails and flaming shots were made at the double bar by Bunny baristas, and there were flashing lights coming from the dance floor (which was clearing out slowly). Guests, or clients as Herby liked to refer to them, knew what time it was. The light in the club dimmed, the rhythm of the house music faded, and the grand drape rose to the ceiling.

Right on cue, the band began playing the Bunny intro song, signaling to the audience that the main event was beginning. Every seat at every table at every corner of the club was filled. The bar was overflowing with club-goers, and in the balconies above were even summoners in their traditional purple robes. It was a full house, and Herb could not have been more ecstatic.

The band's broadwayesque jazzy play on music filled the room. The drums first, and then the French horns howled their notes, followed by the bass. Spotlights shown on either wing of the stage, as Bunnies began their strut onto the stage. A wave of cheers, whistles, and whoops echoed off the stage, every audience member trying to catch a glance or smile from one of the goddesses on stage. The saxophone player began his solo as a purple spotlight shone on center stage, and none other than Herby himself stood on the platform which arose from below stage. He took off his fedora, revealing his balding hair which was styled in his trademark combover, and spread his arms in a colorful bow to the audience.

"Ladies and Gents! Can I get a cheer from my fellow Noxians?" A roar of applause erupted from the audience. Noxians were, after all, the target audience of this club, especially on Battle Bunny Friday.

"Zaunites!" he called again. Another round of applause, though not as loud as the Noxians. "Demacians?" a few cheers, much quieter than the rest. A shocked expression befell Herby, "What do we look like, a cathedral? Kick back and have another drink, residents of the City of Light! Here at the Bunny, we don't judge our clientele". He paused, "Unless you're from Piltover!" The entire bar howled with laughter, lately it seemed that Piltover was at the butt of many a joke in the Bunny. "I dated a Pilty lady once, lady my ass! The girl stopped puttin' out so I tried turnin' her off and back on again. 'The Hell's that supposed work, anyhow?" He had them in tears now, patrons took shots and banged their hands on tables, eager for the show to begin. Oh yeah, they were nice and softened up now.

**/ *** /**

"Boys and girls, I got a very special performance in store for you tonight. You's all gonna get a real chub from this girl, lemme tell ya! I'll tease ya no longer, here she is folks! Herb's Bunnies very own…" – Riven's dance song started. A slow paced garage rock song, perfect for her trademark pole routine.

_Here it goes _she mouthed to herself. The second set of curtains peeled back sideways, her spotlight had not yet come on yet. She hazarded a quick look around the room, searching. In the upper right side balcony, she saw a massive Demacian eagle, and she knew Quinn was nearby. She sighed in relief, feeling much safer and confident knowing that her girlfriend came to watch her perform.

"Battle… Bunny… RIVENNNNNNNN!" he announced, cueing her on stage. Her spotlight came on, and now nothing in this world could stop her.

All the way downstage, she saw her pole rising from the stage. She moved toward it, swaying her hips from side to side with every step of her strut. She stopped halfway to the pole and turned, taking a few struts toward the right wing, stopping to turn again and tease her hair. She made to strut to the other side of the stage, adding arm swivels into her routine. The whistles had yet to stop. Her footsteps matched perfectly with the beat of the song. After making it to the opposite side of the stage, the left wing, she moved back to center stage. Eyeing the pole, she ran her arms up from her hips to her breasts, to her neck and then into the air. She shut her eyes and left her mouth slightly agape, this always drove the men wild.

She had made it to the pole about three seconds early, so she simply grabbed it with her arm, placing the other on her hip, and struck a pose. The second chorus of the song began, and so did her pole routine. Taking a forward jump to build momentum, she swung gracefully around her instrument of seduction.

Hoops and howls could be heard from all corners of the room from men and women alike. She had won over the entire club with her strut alone, and now all she had to do was not fall off her pole and she was in for some handsome tips.

She wrapped one leg around the pole mid-spin, with both hands still on the pole she leaned back to reveal the muscle structure of her neck (a gesture the women of the audience typically enjoyed). Still spinning, she pressed her free leg firmly against the pole and released her grip with her hands. She spun around now in a "look, no hands" pose. She came to a rest facing the audience, still in her pose just so that they got a good view of her cleavage. Grunts of approval from the men, and gasps from the women. _Oh yeah, _she thought.

Her next move was the most complicated. It involved her using her core strength alone to hold her body up and move her legs in a motion that appeared to be "walking" in the air. This move required her to be upside down, which fortunately for her, she already was while in her current pose. She turned her body to grab the pole and she lowered her legs, she was now hanging completely perpendicular to the pole using only her arms to hold her there. She channeled a bit of her Ki into her muscles to strengthen them, and she immediately felt the strain lessen.

In a now relaxed turn of the torso, she began "the walk up" she had decided to call it. Rounds of applause from everyone, once again, for the agile exile before them. The song would be over soon, so she rotated her body and placed her legs in a standing position. With one final jump to get her going, she spun around the pole one last time, one arm extended out as if to "formally accept" their applause. And they applauded all right, but Riven knew they could do better. Channeling more of her Ki into her muscles, she made herself spin faster and faster. To the crowd, it would be appear to be a trick, but in truth it was Riven's raw willpower propelling her around her pole.

She spun too fast. She couldn't hold onto the bar tightly enough, and the smell of cigarette smoke was keeping her from focusing her Ki any more than she already was. Her hand slipped, and she fell backward toward center stage. She rolled as she hit the ground, and decided that she actually made it look much more graceful than it could have been. She heard gasps around the room, and could even hear a few muffled laughs. She swore under her breath, she had just blown the best damn dance of her life. Her mind was racing, searching for ideas to save her performance, and then she heard the final line of the song.

"_Do you want me crawlin' back to you?"_

That was it. The spotlight starting to dim, she leaned over and crawled on all fours toward her pole. The song would play on for two more measure before slowing and eventually ending, at which point she grabbed her pole, still sitting on her knees, and held a finger to her lips, as if to say "let's keep this our little secret."

The song ended, the lights faded, save for her spotlight, and the crowd went wild. They had absolutely loved it. Riven had played the fall off perfectly, and used it to her advantage. Such was her struggle, her fighting style even: Take your opponents mistakes and use them to your advantage, punish them for their errors. At that moment, her enemy was herself, and she used her mistake to improve her performance, and punish herself by humiliating herself further for complete strangers.

The audience was still cheering, the lights had not come on yet. Riven was about to stand when she heard a bell chime in her head. It was the unmistakable sound of the Rift's Toll Bell; she was being summoned to fight on the Fields of Justice. She looked into the spotlight as it dimmed, along with her vision. She disappeared in an eruption of bright blue light, which probably made for a pretty good stage exit, she thought. When her vision returned to her, she was standing in a circle of four other champions, all giving her the most quizzical of looks. She blushed, too embarrassed to respond. But she knew she would have to put her bashfulness behind her, when the female summoner announced "Welcome to Summoner's Rift!"


End file.
